


All that glitters

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 09:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2103690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The origins of our High King Hair Commander’s famous ‘do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All that glitters

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Prompt from my muse and enabler, Silje: “Plot bunny about someone (Turgon? Maybe a Feanorian? Maybe an aunt?) telling Fingon that he should “just brush his hair” because he is a prince after all and should look as such, and Fingon getting angry because clearly said person doesn’t know how to deal with unruly, curly, fluffy hair, and Maedhros needing to restrain him from bloodshed. Braids ensue.”
> 
> 1\. Enjoy some literally fluffy Fingon, and a wildly unoriginal title.

Findekáno burst into the kitchen, Maitimo behind him, talking loudly.

“I swear, if that wasn’t a twelve point buck, I will cook and eat my own foot.” 

“Valar, must you always be so vivid, Finno? Most people would just wager money.” 

“Haven’t got any. But you saw it, right? Huge, it was.” 

“What was huge?” asked Findaráto, with interest, looking up from the table where he was sitting with Turukano. “…other than your hair, I mean.”

Turukáno twisted around to peer at his brother and an alarmed expression came over his face. “Findekáno!”

“What?” Findekáno raised a hand to his hair, which was wild, windswept and tangled. “Oh.” He looked a little sheepish. 

“We were out riding,” Maitimo explained, trying not to smile. “It was windy out.” 

“Yes, but  _you_  look normal,” said Findaráto, starting to laugh. “Did you avoid the maelstrom that must have swept down on Findekáno?” 

Findekáno flushed. “ _You_  try keeping this stuff under control,” he said hotly. “Do you have any idea – ” 

Findaráto propped his chin on his hand and gazed up at his cousin. “Yes, because your sister has exactly the same hair. But  _she_ manages to keep it neat.” 

“She wears it in a net,” said Turukáno knowledgeably.

“I hope you aren’t suggesting that a delicate net, set with pearls, is the answer here,” said Findekáno, clearly fighting to keep his temper. 

“It would be better than how you look now,” said Findaráto, after a moment’s contemplation. “Pearls would be far more fetching than looking like an animated blackberry bramble.” 

Maitimo broke in as Findekáno’s eyes blazed. “Now,” he said, raising placatory hand, “it’s really not so bad…” 

“Not so bad?” Turukáno looked disapproving. “Findekáno, you are heir to the House of Nolofinwë, a prince in the line of Finwë. You should  _endeavor_  to look like one. Maitimo manages to go riding without looking like he’s been ambushed by ravening wolves. Don’t you have any pride?” 

“You patronizing little beast,” growled Findekáno. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Someone who takes pride in their position and appearance,” said Turukáno, drawing himself up. “Someone who doesn’t bring shame on their house by appearing as a wild man roving the countryside.” 

“Someone who doesn’t look like the backside of a badger,” said Findaráto, giving a snort of laughter. 

Findekáno gave a snarl of rage and Maitimo quickly caught him around the waist to keep him from lunging at Findaráto and Turukáno, who were now laughing openly. 

“Come on,” said Maitimo, dragging Findekáno through the door. “Ignore them. And anyway, I’ve got an idea…” 

- 

“There.” Maitimo sat back on his heels, satisfied. He rose and made his way to the bureau, where he rifled through a drawer until he located what he was looking for. Returning to kneel before Findekáno, he held up a hand mirror so his cousin could see the fruits of his labors.

“Hm.” Findekáno turned his head, considering the heavy black plaits that fell shining over his shoulders. “Not bad, I guess.” Maitimo stood, looking pleased with himself. 

Findekáno looked up at Maitimo and sighed. 

“It’s so boring, though,” he said, gazing at Maitimo’s shining red mane. “I’m so appallingly  _mundane_  looking.” 

Maitimo smiled faintly, looking down at his cousin’s dark head. “I wouldn’t say that.” 

“Dark hair is dull,” said Findekáno, slumping back against Maitimo’s bed. “Look at yours – how the light catches it, and pulls out little threads of gold. It’s not fair that you’re so effortlessly beautiful, Maitimo.” 

Maitimo ducked his head, embarrassed, and said quickly, “If you want something flashier, I think I have an idea about that, too.” 

Findekáno watched him curiously as he rummaged in a box on top of his dresser. 

Maitimo turned, smiling, something gleaming gold in his hands. “I think I have just the thing…”


End file.
